A Match Made In Hogwarts
by nitronicky
Summary: Luck doesn't seem to want to touch Hermione this year. She's a walking jinx - a mandatory course has forced her to "marry" Draco Malfoy, Harry and Ron are hiding things from her, the Nargles have taken all her books and, according to Ginny, she is a sadomasochist. Can Hermione turn her luck around before graduation?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Match Made In Hogwarts

**Summary:** Luck doesn't seem to want to touch Hermione this year. She's a walking jinx - a mandatory course has forced her to "marry" Draco Malfoy, owls hate her, Harry and Ron are hiding things, the Nargles have taken all her books and she has discovered that she's probably into sadomasochism. Can Hermione turn her luck around before graduation?

**Author: **nitronicky

**Notes: **Mostly canon-compliant. Non-epilogue-compliant. Ron and Hermione never had romantic feelings for each other, or kissed, Lavender didn't die, and Hermione's parents never had their memory Obliviated. First person, Hermione's POV.

* * *

_Chapter One_

I was excited when I got my letter of invitation to repeat my seventh year at Hogwarts. Like, bouncing and squealing around the house type of excited. But as well as making me happy, the letter disappointed me.

I mean, where was my Head Girl badge?

Honestly! I had searched through the envelope for ten minutes before walking away, feeling rather rejected somehow. I had just been so sure I would become Head Girl – after all, I was the top student at Hogwarts, I didn't break rules (much), and I was an ugly goody-two shoes. Perfect Head Girl material. So imagine my disappointment when the Hogwarts owl came through my bedroom window, pooped on my bed for a while, stuck out its ugly foot and presented an envelope that contained one piece of parchment. This single piece of parchment did not mention the words "Head Girl" anywhere. It just told me that I was welcome to come back to Hogwarts to redo my seventh year, as the education last year wasn't quite… up to standard. The end, goodbye.

Mum was disappointed, too. She's obsessed with goals and achievement. Apparently helping kill Voldemort wasn't enough (although I suppose she doesn't understand the magnitude of that achievement). She was telling me how stupid the person who chose the Heads was, and I knew this speech would eventually lead to the absence of Head Girl badges being _my_ fault, so I should have thought myself lucky when the Hogwarts owl came flying downstairs like a skydiver and attacked me – full on. But really, I would have preferred Mum's lecture to the injuries now present on my arms and face.

What did I ever do to the owl? Jeez.

I was packing my books into my trunk the day before I would depart when Dad came into my room, fresh cuts all over his hands. In those hands he held another letter. I stood up too quickly and managed to bump my knee on my solid bed – but hopefully, if that was a letter saying I was Head Girl, my bruised knee wouldn't matter at all.

"Why do they have to use owls? Why can't they use something normal, or at least wave their wands and get a method of transport that won't attack us?" Dad muttered, handing me the letter. It was addressed to Hermione Granger. That was me.

"Because, Daddy," I said, eagerly opening my letter, "owls have been in use for many years. It's kind of like tradition to use owls nowadays. I suppose a Patronus could be cast and sent here, but it would have a long way to travel, plus Muggles might see it, plus it might freak you out. Or maybe the school staff could use the Floo Network with only their heads, but that again might freak you out."

"Wait – what do you mean 'with only their heads'? Isn't the Floo thing where you have the green fire?"

But I didn't answer. My letter read:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_A large problem has come to the attention of the staff here at Hogwarts. This problem concerns the divorce rate of witches and wizards; approximately one in three couples will divorce. To help aid the destruction of this problem, a new class, named Marriage Education, will be added to the timetables of all seventh-years. It will teach you and your fellow seventh-years how to maintain a marriage, as well as how to cope with life without magic and how to take care of children. In this course you will be paired with a partner, who will be your "husband" or "wife", and a child between two and twelve years of age. All equipment will be provided for you in this class._

_Your partner and child will be chosen randomly. You will find out who your partner is when you come to Hogwarts, but you will find out who your child is a few days into the Marriage Education course._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Well?" Dad said expectantly. "What does it say?"

I looked up from my letter. My thoughts on this new course were jumbled and mixed, like vines in a jungle. Was I excited? I don't know, but I sure did want to find out more. Was I dreading the new class? Not entirely, but I hoped my partner wouldn't be – shall we say – a dud.

"I'm getting married," I stated simply, but realised my mistake too late.

"What?" Dad screeched, rather like an angry bird, and snatched the letter out of my hands. His eyes were a blur as he read, gripping the parchment so tightly that his fingers were white. He calmed down significantly when he finished and let out a whoosh of air.

"Okay then," Dad said, shrugging, and gave the letter back to me before calmly leaving my room.

I left it lying on my bed, stared at the empty doorway and continued to pack.

* * *

I ate my favourite food at dinner later that day, as it was my last night at home. I was daintily eating my macaroni and cheese, like all proper ladies must, when really I just wanted to stuff my mouth with the creamy goodness and then fall asleep.

Mum had just read the letter. Her mouth was simply a thin line.

"I want you to write to me twice a week instead of once a week, okay?" Mum said to me.

"Okay," I said, too occupied with my dinner to wonder why she wanted me to write more frequently.

"Do you... do you agree with the course, honey?" Mum asked Dad, who shrugged.

"I guess," Dad replied nonchantly.

"You guess? Don't you care that our daughter is being forced into marriage at such a young age?" Mum said, firing up all of a sudden

"It's only a fake marriage, and it'll be good for when she does get married," Dad countered and popped some macaroni into his mouth.

"Well – I don't agree with this course one bit. And I'll bet that lots of others don't either," Mum said with a frighteningly cunning look on her face. She got up, grabbed a spiral notepad and sat back down.

"You can't exactly do anything about it," Dad pointed out cautiously.

"Can't I?" Mum snapped. "You wait and see – I'll have the lesson blasted out of the Hogwarts curriculum! Like TNT!" Mum shouted enthusiastically.

I watched this conversation with interest until Mum gave up on Dad and turned to me.

"So what do you think of the course, Hermione?" Mum asked me sweetly just as I finished up my dinner.

"I don't know, Mum. It's too early to tell," I replied and put my dishes in the sink. "But I'll write to you as much as you asked me," I added.

"Who will you be, er – marrying, dear?" Mum said through gritted teeth.

I shrugged and squirted dishwashing liquid all over the bowls. "The letter didn't say."

Mum was silent for a while as I scrubbed the dishes. Then she spoke up again and Dad went to the living room to watch basketball. "Since I obviously can't stop Marriage Ed. immediately, I want you to do well. I'll give you some tips."

"Oh, it's okay, Mum," I said quickly. It was late and I wanted to get some sleep before we departed for King's Cross tomorrow. "I'm sure I'll get all the tips I need from the Marriage Ed. teachers."

"If you're sure," Mum said after a moment's hesitation. "I'd better prepare my anti-Marriage Education petition." And she left.

I let the bubbles in the sink slide off the dishes. Petition? Great. I was going to be like the embarrassed teenager whose parents dropped me off and kissed me on the cheek every day. Except this was worse, because Mum was getting other parents involved in the downfall of Marriage Education, meaning lots and lots of kids would know it was _my_ mum with the minuscule Gucci bag, green Shi-Tzu (that's a long story) and the petition.

* * *

There is probably nothing worse than watching your mum talking to other mums and getting them to sign a petition. I don't why – but it is just so, _so_ embarrassing.

Since Mum couldn't pass through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ , she was stopping every mother (even those without seventh-year kids) who wanted to pass through and telling them about her plan to make a protest. Thus far, she had decided on getting other mums to join her cause and then complain to the school governors. That was as far as she'd gotten with planning.

I stood a fair few metres away from Mum. There was a long queue in front of the platform barrier, causing Muggle passers-by to stare at all the oddly-dressed people and noisy owls. I loved my mum – I really did – but sometimes I just had to pretend not to know her.

Eventually Mum called out to the queue to tell them that all the mums should come to her and the rest should pass through the barrier. At least the crowd of harassed-looking mothers blocked the dads and children passing through from the Muggles.

I decided it was time to go. I said goodbye to my dad and attempted to reach my mother, but there were too many women around her. Oh well. I would write to her later.

I passed through the barrier and stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, the scarlet Hogwarts Express sitting by. The crowd was noisy and bustling as parents said goodbye to their children. I waited for a while, trying to spot any friends, but eleven o'clock came and I had no such luck.

I joined the stampede of students and entered the gleaming stream train. Eventually I saw a familiar red-head in a relatively empty compartment.

"RON!" I shouted ecstatically, flung open the door and jumped on Ron, who wheezed and hugged me back.

"Hermione," he choked out. "Hermione, I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry," I said, laughing, and then squealed and hugged him again. I'd missed him so much, and I was with him again now. We just had to wait for Harry to complete the trio.

Speak of the devil. Harry entered the compartment, a brilliant smile on his face, and hugged us both.

"Harry!" I cried, and then took his and Ron's hands. We sat down on the same seat and I took in their faces. They looked older now – not just because of their growth over the summer, but also the war. They carried expressions of weary, old men, because of all they'd seen.

Hurt. Fighting. Broken families. Death.

"Hermione..." Harry said, beaming. He seemed not to know what to say. And Ron was the same. I smiled at the both of them, kissed their cheeks and sat on the opposite seat so that I could see the both of them.

I broke our comfortable silence. "So what's new?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is a rewrite of The Project, but it will be very different. As you have probably already noticed, it is in first person (from Hermione's point of view). It's main plot will not be about Death Eaters' attempts to resurrect Voldemort (though you hadn't been shown one shred of that plot), but instead about social conflicts and such. Of course, this will always be a Dramione. This is still also about Marriage Education, previously named Adult Life Studies. Now – review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I really do suck at writing songs. So I made the Sorting Hat's song perfectly stupid.

* * *

_Chapter Two_

The train began to move out of the station just as Harry spoke.

"Ginny and I are getting married!" he announced enthusiastically.

Ron stood up like he had ants in his pants and I felt my jaw drop. We yelled "WHAT?" at the same time. The colour of Ron's face would rival even beetroot, and I probably looked like a retarded dog with my mouth hanging wide open in disbelief.

"Isn't it great?" Harry said, smiling.

"My – my – you – marry – WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, HARRY?" Ron spluttered, almost hyperventilating.

"Calm down, Ronald," I said, though I was feeling pretty tense myself. "Harry… that's, er, well it really is great news – but don't you think the both of you are a tad too young?"

"Young?" Harry said, clearly surprised. "No – not really. The median age that a person will marry is roughly 26, and if you think about it, eight or nine years difference isn't much compared to the amount of years we will probably live –"

"Since when did you get all mathematical?" I asked with my eyebrows raised.

But when he got all mathematical, I would never know, because Ron decided to make his presence known again.

"SHE'S ONLY SEVENTEEN, HARRY!" Ron cried. He dropped onto his seat again, breathing heavily.

"Like I said before, mate, the nine years between 17 and 26 really is nothing compared to–"

"Be quiet! I haven't learned maths since I was ten. You're hurting my brain… where was I? Oh yeah – you've only just become adults! Why so soon?"

"We just thought that, well, since we may die very soon – after all, you never know – we thought we wanted to get the best out of life. So we're hoping to marry during the Christmas holidays. Ginny already told your mum about the marriage, and she approves one hundred percent. They want to have a Quidditch-themed wedding, since I like Quidditch and Ginny's thinking of joining the Holyhead Harpies. Oh yeah, and Mrs. Weasley said she's going to get Gwenog Jones to come. How cool will that be–?"

"Harry," Ron interrupted. "You're not going to – to _consummate_ the marriage, are you?"

Harry looked horrified. "No!" he exclaimed.

Ron and I breathed synchronized sighs of relief.

"I'm really happy for you, Harry," I said sincerely, and looked expectantly at Ron.

"Me too, mate, but if you hurt her in any way, you'll find yourself with a broken nose and no genitals," Ron said warningly.

I gasped and scolded him. "Ron! I think you're scaring Harry – let him keep his genitals, but give him the broken nose."

Harry seemed significantly calmer after I said this to Ron. "Whoa, it feels way better now that I've gotten that off my chest."

Ginny appeared at the doorway, legs spread to stabilize herself on the rocky train. She flung open the compartment door and collapsed on the seat next to Harry.

"Hi, everyone," she gasped. I smiled and greeted her. Her usually neat hair was now a frizzy, ginger ball, much like how my hair used to be (though obviously her hair was the colour of sunsets, rather than poop). "I've just been dueling with Millicent Bulstrode. She's actually got good pretty good aim – for an empty-headed rhino."

Ron looked alarmed. "Ginny, I told you: no more using the Bat-Bogey Hex on unsuspecting Slytherins just 'cause you can."

Ginny pouted and Harry laughed. "You're lucky term hasn't started yet. Hermione can't take any points away," Harry said to Ginny.

I cocked my head, confused. Then I caught on. "Oh! No, Harry – I'm not Head Girl."

Harry obviously wasn't expecting this. Ginny was laughing silently so that her body was just shaking, and Ron looked utterly baffled by this news.

"Not Head Girl? So then, who is?" Harry said.

Ginny, with a broad grin on her face, proudly said, "I am!"

Harry's mouth formed a perfect "O". "Really? That's great! I'm Head Boy!"

Ginny laughed. "Awesomesauce."

I frowned and paused. "Awesomesauce?"

"Oh, it means awesome."

"I know that–"

"Anything off the trolley, lovelies?" said a voice suddenly, and everyone jumped. The trolley lady appeared at the doorway, pushing her trolley of goodies in front of her as usual and looking plumper than ever.

"Yes, please," I said at once, fishing my wallet out of my bag. Summer had been hard and full of work – Dad had decided one day to start getting into fitness, and he dragged me along each he went for a run or went to the gym, full of sweaty, muscular, and horribly hairy fitness freaks. I was looking forwards to putting some fat back on.

We ordered our food for the train ride. I got three Cauldron Cake slices, and some pumpkin juice to wash it down. We ate ravenously, pausing only to contribute to the conversation.

"What about that Marriage Education thing, hey? It's gonna be hilarious – don't you reckon?" Ron asked, reading his Chocolate Frog card.

"Yep. I hope I'm paired with Harry, though," Ginny said.

"I hope I get someone in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw – maybe Hufflepuff," I said.

"You want someone worthy of your presence?" Ron joked, and I glared at him.

"Well – actually, I guess you're right," I said after a moment of consideration. "I want someone who will – oh, poop!" I exclaimed. My very chocolaty, very _creamy_ cake had just fallen on my uniform skirt. Thanks, bad luck.

"You want someone who will go to the toilet?" Ginny asked slyly.

"I – what?" I said, utterly confused.

"Because you said – oh, never mind," Ginny said, and the conversation somehow arrived at the subject of parallel universes. For the rest of the train ride I merely listened to the conversation, contributing very rarely. When it began to rain, the steady beat of raindrops pounding against the window lulled me to sleep.

* * *

"Hermione – Hermione. Wake your arse up," I vaguely heard Ginny in my dreams.

In my dreamland, Ginny was a banana. And she was marrying a strawberry named Larry, and I was marrying a piece of chocolate that looked slightly like it had the face of Albert Einstein. But then, Ginny the Banana was suddenly jumping on me and shouting words I couldn't comprehend.

I mumbled and opened my eyes very slightly. It was cold –very cold – and a faint stream of water was falling on my nose through some sort of window. The carriage window.

"We're here, Hermione. Let's go," Ginny urged, wrapping one of my arms around her shoulder. Ron took the either one and I relied on them entirely as they got me out of the carriage. I was still feeling quite drowsy – as if I'd just had some alcohol.

Goodness. Stupid rain and chocolate.

I woke up completely when I felt the rain on my exposed skin. The merciless, freezing drops ceased to touch me only when I ducked under Ginny's umbrella, along with Ron and Harry. We followed the long stream of students up to the castle through the windy and wet night. The wind whistled through the trees and, for some reason, I found myself closing my eyes just before we entered Hogwarts.

I was so happy and excited. I was back at Hogwarts.

Sometimes, you can't help getting ecstatic at the fact that you're back somewhere you're attached to. Even when you've seen it reduced to rubble, with bleeding and pale and icy corpses littered all over the ground – corpses with unmoving eyes staring at the ceiling. It was that enchanted ceiling – the one part of Hogwarts that survived.

I inhaled, opened my eyes and looked up. The umbrella was gone; it was replaced the enchanted ceiling, which was now a dark and rainy sky. I looked back down and sat at the Gryffindor table, grinning broadly and probably stupidly at every familiar face I saw.

The cold and shivering first-years entered when all other students were seated. I noticed there weren't as many as there usually was each year.

Headmistress McGonagall lead the small line of frightened, nervous youngsters through the two middle tables and up to the stool upon which the Sorting Hat sat.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," McGonagall said warmly, and everyone cheered at this first sentence. She waited for us to calm down before continuing. "Now, before the Sorting ceremony begins, I would like to make a speech."

She gazed at all of our faces with wise eyes.

"Hogwarts, as you know, was almost utterly demolished thanks to the events of a few months ago. But, as you can see, it has been completely restored and some needed repairs have been made. I would like to thank Mr. Filch and all the students who stayed here at Hogwarts over the summer for helping restore Hogwarts to its former glory."

Everyone clapped politely.

"I would also like to press onto a more sensitive topic. The people that died fighting for a cause they believed in – they're not here with us now, but they didn't die in vain. They were brave, courageous young men and women, and they helped create peace and end a war. In their honour, a Remembrance Ball will be held in a week."

The clapping was slightly louder this time. Once everyone stopped, the Sorting Hat opened its brim of a mouth to begin singing. Everyone eagerly awaited its song, curious to se what it would sing this year.

"_I was once set on fire,_

_And I can tell you that it wasn't terribly nice  
_

_But I survived, just like Hogwarts castle_

_While all the rest fell like dead mice_

_They were silly and young_

_And didn't know what the heck they were doing_

_While I was sitting in the Head office,_

_Singing and drinking and laughing and pooing_

_Unfortunately I didn't have time_

_To come up with an incredible song_

_But you're all going to forgive me_

_And I'll make sure this tune won't last long_

_Anyway – after everyone fell like mice, and a rock was turned thrice, and Weasley screamed like she had lice, and Potter looked like he had died from eating bad rice, and the Death Eaters were rolling some dice, and the Sorting Hat lost all inspiration for making a song…_

_We won the war!_

_It made our hearts sore,_

_But we won the war!_

_And You-Know-Who's soul pieces will soar_

_Because we won the war!_

_Word._"

There was some uncertain clapping while the rest of the students didn't move their hands. I exchanged looks with Ginny. McGonagall looked like she was struggling to refrain from tearing the Hat to shreds.

"Now, onto the Sorting. First-years, when I call your name, please sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head," McGonagall said through gritted teeth, and so began the Sorting ceremony.

At the end of the ceremony, each house had gained a few more students. McGonagall stood up to do her second speech.

"Before we begin this marvelous feast, I have a few announcements. Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name implies, forbidden. He would also like me to remind you that just because the Prefects' bathroom on the third floor doesn't have a lock, it does not mean that everyone can use it – and Dungbombs have been added to the list of banned products, along with the other six hundred and ninety-eight products. The entire list can be viewed in the outside corridor.

"Now, this next announcement is for all seventh-years. Students below that year, feel free to tune out."

No one was going to do that.

"I hope you have all received your letters, but just in case you haven't… A startling problem has come to our attention. To be precise, the divorce rate of witches and wizards. It seems that less and less people are learning how to manage a marriage and are running away at the first opportunity. To counter this problem, Marriage Education will be introduced to your timetables. You will be 'married' to a randomly-selected partner, whom you will live with outside of class, and the two of you will take care of a randomly-selected child, who will be arriving later this week."

There was a short moment of silence. And then all hell broke loose.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

"WHAT THE HECK?" someone cried out from the Slytherin table, and all seventh-years backed up this statement with cries of outrage. Boys were groaning as loud as they could and girls were screaming and shrieking, waving their hands in the air. A few were even crying. I was probably the only person who was sitting perfectly still – but only because I was stunned. The majority of students from other years were snickering and giggling.

"You can't make us marry!" Cho Chang cried, and a group of Gryffindors led by Parvati started chanting: "_Marriage is a choice! Give us all a voice!_"

Most of us had received our letters – that was for sure. But McGonagall talking about it seemed to make it much more real. It was a like a slap in the face.

"I'm gay!" someone from Hufflepuff yelled. "You can't do this to me!"

"Silence!" McGonagall yelled, and everyone shut up. "This is course is _mandatory _if you wish to graduate from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

I gulped. That was my number one priority in life – graduate from Hogwarts. But a few dunderheads didn't care about graduating and made their opinions clear by calling out, so McGonagall pressed on.

"The most successful couple will be awarded with one thousand Galleons to split between them."

Now everyone was truly silent.

"Your level of success will be based on how much fake money you raise by working – but it's all very complicated, so I will leave it to your Marriage Ed. teachers to explain. After the feast, please see who your partner is on the notice board outside the Hall. For now, let us eat," McGonagall concluded and raised her hands. Plates of every delicious food you could imagine suddenly appeared on each of the four tables and everyone began loading their plates with food. I was feeling a little gluttonous, so I put as much food on my plate as _Ron_.

I'd been to a lot of start-of-term feasts, but they never failed to satisfy.

Conversation was scarce. Everyone was noisily clinking their utensils together and drinking from gleaming goblets. When a greedy first-year finally stopped eating, the food disappeared and everyone filed out into the corridor. The seventh-years made a large crowd around the notice board. I craned my neck, trying to see who my partner was. I could see a long list of names pinned to the board, but I was too far away to see properly.

Ginny managed to squeeze in the crowd. She was sucked in, as if the crowd was quicksand and Ginny was an unsuspecting traveler. I giggled when I saw a flash of flaming red hair right in the front of the notice board.

People muttered angrily but Ginny ignored them. Eventually, she jumped back into the crowd and was squeezed out the side like a turd.

"Who's my partner, Ginny?" Ron asked excitedly.

"Pansy Parkinson," Ginny replied distastefully. "Harry – you're with Cho Chang."

Harry groaned.

"I think I saw that Luna's with Goyle, Parvati's with – who was it again? Oh yeah, Theodore Nott. Seamus is with – wait for it – Millicent Bulstrode!"

Our little group burst into laughter.

"And also, Neville is with Hannah Abbott and Dean's with Fay Dunbar," Ginny continued.

"Who's that?" Ron asked interestedly.

"My dorm mate for six years," I said exasperatedly, and a look of comprehension dawned on Ron's face. "So, Ginny," I said, turning to my ginger friend. "Who are you with?"

"I'm actually in a threesome marriage," Ginny said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"You're _what_?" I questioned.

"Yeah. How funny would that be? A threesome marriage…" Ginny trailed off, laughing.

"And – who's my partner?" I asked cautiously. From the look on Ginny's face, I could immediately tell I didn't want to know the answer.

"Draco Malfoy."

If you think about it, I really should have known it would be him. Because that was just my luck.

* * *

The next morning, I studied my timetable during breakfast. First up, I had Herbology and Transfiguration. Then came lunch, and Marriage Ed took up the rest of the day.

Oh, God. I sure was looking forward to that.

Not.

The Herbology and Transfiguration lessons were much more difficult than I had imagined. We did revision – lots of it. I supposed it was only natural though, since we had NEWTs this year. At lunch, Harry, Ron and I tried to do a bit of our homework, but for both subjects we needed the library, which was closed for today. I checked my timetable again at the end of lunch. Marriage Education was in a classroom on the seventh floor. Great – along with "marrying" Malfoy, I would have to climb seven flights of stairs to do it.

The climb with Harry and Ron was a long and perilous journey, but somehow, we managed it. The Marriage Ed. classroom was large enough to fit the whole seventh grade in (that included people like me who should have already graduated but decided to redo their seventh year). We were squished in, like criminals in a jail. Two teachers and several other adults sitting on chairs silenced us all.

"Welcome to your new class!" boomed the first teacher, who was a short and fat little man who seemed to have a liking for shiny things. They were all over his clothes and on his shoes – little gems or pieces of gold or anything that glinted in the light. I gave him a nickname right there and then. Sparkle-Man.

"You will coming to this class until the end of the year," Sparkle-Man continued, "and you will learn that to be in a marriage, one must be committed! You must stay with the nourishing potato of your spouse, rather than run off and get candy at the first opportunity. Sure, candy is sweet. It gives you a high – makes you feel wonderful and satisfied. And then comes the big crash and you become sluggish and you regret ever eating that candy! But if you stay with the potato, you will be nourished and you won't regret it! Do you understand?"

It was quite clear that no one did, but Sparkle-Man pressed on.

"I am your new teacher; Professor Spinner, and your other teacher is the lovely Professor Celestia!"

Spinner the Sparkle-Man gestured towards his female teaching partner, who looked like a life-sized wizarding Barbie doll. She had long, blonde hair that cascaded down her back and shoulders in precise curls. Her face was coated in a thick layer of make-up, making her skin unnaturally pale and her lips too dark for their own good. At least her clothes were modest – she wore a violet robe and a matching violet pointy hat. Her nickname would be Barbie.

"Thank you, all," Barbie said, flashing fake, pearly-white teeth.

"Now, let's get started!" Sparkle-Man enthused, bringing his pudgy hands together. "When I call your name, please enter one of these rooms. Inside you will find your guidance counselor, who will be your guidance counselor for the rest of the year. These lovely ladies and gentlemen are the guidance counselors."

He pointed towards the line of adults, who waved and grinned. They stood up and each person went into one of ten stone doors.

"Alrighty," Barbie said, brandishing a clipboard. "I will be reading out your names in no particular order."

She then hummed a bit, trailing her manicured nail down the paper.

"How about… Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger? Could both of you please choose a door?"

I gulped, though I was actually quite glad I was called first. The faster this was over with, the better. I emerged from the crowd and flung open a random door without waiting for Malfoy. A relatively smart-looking woman with a tight brown bun sat at her desk, smiling warmly.

"Hello, there. I'm Kelly-Anne. And what might your name be?" Kelly-Anne asked, gesturing towards a seat. I took it.

"I'm Hermione Granger," I said.

"Ah. And your partner…? Who I must say is devastatingly handsome!" Kelly-Anne breathed, looking over my shoulder.

I scowled and turned around. In the doorway stood Malfoy – platinum blond hair, cold eyes, sharp features. I could tell in the way he walked and calmly sat down on another seat that he'd lost some of his swagger and arrogance, but not all of it. He looked thinner and paler than he had before, and there were dark circles under his eyes. It looked like someone had been trying to suck his eyes out.

I wondered vaguely if someone had actually tried that before returning to Earth.

"That thing? Oh, it's Draco Malfoy," I told Kelly-Anne, crossing my arms.

"Come now, Hermione, there's no need to call this fine young man a thing," Kelly-Anne said, hungrily taking Malfoy's appearance. She was officially nicknamed Cougar.

I stayed silent and waited. Malfoy smiled charmingly and kissed Kelly-Anne's outstretched hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you…?" Malfoy said with a brilliant smile, expecting Cougar's name.

"Kelly-Anne," Cougar giggled. "My goodness, such a charming boy. I imagine the two of you will go through this course fine!"

I snorted in a very non-ladylike way. "He hates me. I hate him. It will always be like that."

Cougar turned her head towards me. "Hermione," she said coldly. "Draco does not hate you. Don't make lies about him."

I opened my mouth to protest but Malfoy interrupted me with a sad, long sigh.

"Yes, dear Hermione has been under the impression that I detest her because of her blood status ever since our second year! She only thinks this because I am a pureblood and she's Muggle-born. In truth, Muggles and Muggle-borns alike fascinate me and I would welcome them into my home with outstretched arms," Malfoy concluded with his stupid dirty mouth.

"That's a load of crap!" I yelled. Cougar gasped and Malfoy smirked at me when Cougar wasn't looking.

"Hermione!" Cougar scolded. "I will not tolerate bad language in this room – and I will not tolerate any lies from you either!"

"But you'll tolerate lies from him?" I huffed.

"He isn't lying," Cougar defended. "I could tell the difference between a liar and a teller of truth with my eyes closed."

I closed my eyes for a very long time, willing my anger to cool down. When I opened my eyes, I decided to let it go.

"Fine. Whatever. Just tell us whatever you have to tell us," I said.

"I will not tolerate rudeness!" Cougar barked.

"All right. Sorry," I mumbled, picking lint off my skirt with hands that shook with anger.

"Good. Now, the first thing that the two of you must do together is choosing a house. You will have a budget of a thousand Galleons – not real, of course – and you can choose any house, but just keep in mind that there will be other things to buy. Here is the list of houses," Cougar said monotonously, as if she'd done this a hundred times before. Which she probably had, though not at Hogwarts. She waved her wand and a piece of paper with pictures of around eight different houses with their prices appeared on the desk.

Malfoy and I leaned closer to the table. The houses were in the order of price – the very first house was a posh, cream mansion with gardens and tiered fountains and other fancy stuff that anyone would love to have. The bottom house had a simple cottage with a thatched roof, dirty walls and cracked windows.

"I'd like the – what's it called? The '_Grand Jardin de l'Amour'_," Malfoy said at once. The idiot.

"Malfoy – we have a budget. If we get this house we'll only have two hundred Galleons left," I cried exasperatedly.

"I like my comfort," Malfoy said, shrugging.

"Hermione, it's not your right to choose for the both of you," Cougar said.

"It's not his either!" I snarled.

"What did I say about rudeness?" Cougar shouted over the top of me. I crossed my arms again, and Cougar pretended she hadn't heard my last comment.

"Draco, dearie, do you want the first house?" she said in a calmer tone.

"Yes please, Kelly-Anne," Malfoy replied, equally as calm.

"Do you protest, Hermione?" Kelly-Anne asked dangerously, her eyes flashing.

I gritted my teeth. If I protested, we wouldn't get anywhere. I would just be wasting time. So I sucked it up and said: "No."

"Very well," Kelly-Anne said happily and ticked the stupid mansion.

This force wasn't to be reckoned with. The force of Cougar and Ferret.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Lavender will be the only character in this fic who magically comes to life. Also, this chapter is longer than the others, as a sorry gift for taking ages to update.

* * *

_Chapter Four_

"Now that the house is sorted, you have to choose what groceries you will be getting. They are rated simply by stars – of course, five stars means the highest quality of food, and one star is the lowest. Unfortunately, the highest you two can afford is three stars."

I stayed quiet, waiting for Malfoy to arrogantly answer for the both of us. But he didn't.

"I'm waiting for an answer. Draco, honey, what would you like?" Cougar asked sweetly.

Malfoy responded with a shrug and I opened my eyes in shock. Him – giving the choice to me?

"She asked you what you wanted," I said incredulously.

"I don't eat much. Get whatever you want," Malfoy said nonchalantly. I frowned and told Cougar I wanted three stars. She glared at me and ticked something on her clipboard.

"Okay, now you must choose your shared activity, which you will be doing together, of course. This is the second-last thing to choose. Some activities are free, while others must be paid for," Cougar explained, handing us both lists of activities. I scanned it, but I didn't manage to find any activity I liked the sound of.

"Quidditch," Malfoy said immediately.

"A good choice, Draco! Oh, and it's free, too!" said Cougar happily. I scowled. I seemed to be doing that a lot in this room. "Now, we have one more thing to go over before you can leave, and that's who will be the main provider for the family and what job they will do."

"Granger would like to work, wouldn't you?" Malfoy said sweetly.

"Yes," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Of course I would."

"Ah, good. And – do you wish to be a cleaner?" Cougar said innocently. I seriously wanted to punch her face.

I was very out-of-character in this room.

"No," I replied. "I'd like to see what other jobs are available."

"Oh, well, let's see," Cougar murmured, her eyes sweeping over her clipboard. "There's cleaner, caterer, Headmistress assistant, babysitter for other couples, Filch's assistant, organiser of an entertainment committee, library book sorter–"

"I'll take it," I interrupted. "I'll be a book sorter."

Malfoy snickered. "It's just the kind of thing she'd do."

"It only pays fifty Galleons a week. That only just covers your grocery bill," Cougar informed me. I frowned.

"I thought we already paid for that?"

Cougar laughed. "Oh, no. No, when you paid for the three stars, it was only to – say – start it off. You have to keep earning money for your groceries. Of course, you can get a loan, but if you're still in debt by the end of the year you fail the course."

"Well, if my job covers the bill, that's all right. I'll be a book sorter," I declared. Kelly-Anne the Abominable Cougar pursed her lips and wrote it down on the clipboard, while Malfoy looked amused.

"That's done and dusted. Come to the Great Hall again at around six o'clock, and you'll be lead to your new house. Also, when furnishing your home, be sure to leave a room for your child. That is all – the both of you are dismissed from class," Cougar said in a professional voice, and then reverted back to her sickly sweet tone. "Goodbye, Draco."

"Goodbye, Kelly-Anne," Malfoy said in a husky voice, and I swore I could see Cougar shiver.

"It was nice meeting you, Cou – er – Kelly-Anne," I said, trying to sound as honest as I could.

Cougar pretended not to hear and fiddled with her files. Malfoy and I walked out the door and I power-walked back to my dorm, not even stopping to talk to Harry or Ron or Ginny.

* * *

At six o'clock, I went to the Great Hall with Ginny. She had a look of disgust and annoyance plastered onto her face – I guessed her meeting with her two spouses and guidance counselor didn't go any better than mine.

"What happened?" I asked as we entered the Hall and sat down at the rather empty Gryffindor table. About half of the seventh-graders had already arrived.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, her scowl deepening as she saw someone at the Slytherin table, though I couldn't see who.

"Your meeting?"

"Oh," Ginny said, glaring daggers at the mystery person at the Slytherin table. "It went fabulously. It was absolutely spiffy. I am unequivocally and completely in love with my wife and my husband," Ginny snarled, her voice dripping with deadly sarcasm. She still hadn't taken her eyes away from that spot on the Slytherin table.

"Nice use of adverbs," I remarked, waving to Harry and Ron as they sat down, looking tired and worn out.

"Thanks," Ginny muttered, disregarding Harry and Ron and putting up an elegant middle finger to the unidentified Slytherin.

"Who are you 'married' to?" I asked, but Ginny ignored me. I turned to Harry and Ron. "I take it your meetings weren't that great either?"

"Pansy... Parkinson... Parkinson... Pansy... Pug..." Ron muttered angrily, while Harry patted his head sympathetically.

"Cho was – er – ecstatic when I joined her in the room," Harry sighed. "_Too_ ecstatic."

I didn't press any further, as McGonagall had just entered the room. She walked briskly between the two middle tables and requested silence.

"Right. I want this to be a quiet process, done in an orderly fashion. Tonight, teachers will take you to your houses, where you will furnish them and cook dinner," McGonagall instructed. "All couples who chose the eighth house, please follow Mr. Filch. These couples are: Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott and Gregory Goyle and Luna Lovegood. Couples who chose the seventh house, please follow Professor Slughorn. These couples are: Fay Dunbar and Dean Thomas..."

As McGonagall read out the names, couples got up and followed their teachers out the door. Most of the couples had chosen House #4, so by the time McGonagall reached #3, everyone but most of the Slytherins and their partners had left. Ron, Ginny, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender and I were the only Gryffindors left.

"...All couples who chose the second house, please follow Professor Trelawney. These couples are: Seamus Finnigan and Millicent Bulstrode, Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson, Parvati Patil and Theodore Nott and Ernie Macmillan and Daphne Greengrass."

A large mass of green with a spot of red and yellow followed Trelawney out the door.

"And all the rest – you've obviously chosen the first house. In this room, do I have: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, and Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley and Lavender Brown?"

I burst out in laughter and Ginny glared at me. Poor Ginny – being married to Zabini and Lavender at the same time couldn't have been all that enjoyable.

"Professor," I said after regaining my composure, "why is Ginny married to two people instead of one?"

"There was an odd number of seventh-years," McGonagall said uncomfortably. Zabini scowled at this. "Besides – marriages like these have happened before. Open marriages and such..."

She trailed off, cleared her throat and herded us out of the Hall. I didn't bother to tell her that she had used the wrong marriage term, but instead focused my attention on being on the opposite side of the group to Malfoy. He and Zabini talked quietly with dark looks on their faces, while Ginny, Lavender and I made our own silent group.

McGonagall led us out of the castle and onto the dark, cold Hogwarts grounds. The stars and moon cast feeble light over the grass, but ahead of our group I could see candles and _Lumos Maxima_ balls illuminating a huge circle of houses. I immediately recognised these houses as the ones from which we had to choose during our counseling – a few people were crowded around House #2, but I assumed all the rest were inside.

"Move along," McGonagall said sharply and we all jogged to keep up with her long strides. "All right – Malfoy and Granger, go to the mansion on the left. Zabini, Brown and Weasley, on the right. Instructions on furnishing your new homes will be inside. You are to sleep here tonight – where you sleep is completely up to you. That is all."

She left us in front of two grand mansions, each identical to the other. Both were painted a charming cream colour. They were tall and large, with a beautiful, neat garden and tiered fountain out front. Hedges separated the two houses.

"Well," I said, as the Gryffindors gawked at the mansions while the snakes looked at them carelessly. "Let's go."

I didn't wait for anyone and immediately strode towards the mansion on the left. When I opened the door, I was disappointed by the interior. It definitely wasn't as beautiful as the outside, though it was quite obvious the inside would be like this. We had to furnish the house.

All the walls were plain and boring. A few chairs and tables were scattered here and there. Even though the furniture was unimpressive, I could tell that it could become something great. The ceiling and the floor were both made of polished marble and I saw engravings of utopias and angels on the pillars that held the roof up. There were several places to put candles on the walls, as well, and there was just so much _room_!

I walked over to one of the mahogany tables and picked up the scrolls that lay there. I unrolled them to find pictures of different furniture, and the incantation and wand movement needed to conjure them up. A dark red couch caught my eye immediately and I studied the instructions to make the furniture.

"_Byrrus_ _Canapus Apparaisse!_" I muttered, swishing my wand in a small circle, and a bright flash of light made me shut my eyes tight. (**A/N: Epic mixture of Latin and altered French words there in that spell!**)

When I opened my eyes again, a deep red, velvet couch was standing in front of me. I grinned and floated it over to where I wanted it – right in front of a large fireplace. Then I looked back down at my sheet and proceeded to create a black rug, when Malfoy entered.

"That the furniture instructions?" Malfoy asked, and I nodded, muttering an incantation to make my desired rug appear ("_Pullejaceus Tapissus Apparaisse!_").

"Give it," Malfoy commanded, advancing towards me.

"Nope," I replied simply, pulling it out of the way when he tried to snatch it.

"Come now, Mudblood. Let's not play games," Malfoy said, feigning sweetness. I glared at him, conjured up another rug and threw it at his face. He peeled it off his head, looking angry. "The Mudblood's got anger issues? Who would have thought?"

"Don't call me that," I spat.

"So... you get touchy when I call you Mudblood?" he said slyly, and I scowled.

"No. It's simply a foul name plastered onto people like me by prejudiced, biased brats with no foundation or proof that we are any worse than purebloods," I said matter-of-factly. I tried to ignore him by turning my back on him and continue to furnish the area in front of the fireplace – I really did try – but he was just so darn annoying!

"Foul name for foul people," Malfoy replied simply, as if it was obvious. He then successfully snatched away the furnishing instructions and began turning the walls green.

"Foul ferret. Foul ass," I muttered, beginning to light the fire. "Why do you have to make the walls green? It's like bloody Christmas."

"Only because of your red couch. Get rid of it and everyone will be happy."

"No, they won't!" I huffed. "I like this couch! So get rid of your Slytherin paint – I'm a Gryffindor and I don't deserve to live in a snake's den."

"Can you imagine me living in a Gryffindor scarlet house?" Malfoy snarled. And I really couldn't imagine that. So I snatched the scroll back off him and made the walls red with thin – very thin – green stripes.

"Now it's like Christmas," Malfoy commented, one of his eyebrows raised. I threw my robe onto the couch because it was getting warm with the fire and I folded my arms.

"Well, we can't agree on one colour, so it has to be like this," I told him.

"Granger, honestly! Can't you get in your tiny Mudblood brain that – I don't know – perhaps we _don't have to have_ red or green?" he cried exasperatedly.

I looked at the ceiling, realising he was right. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction by admitting it. So I just turned the walls grey.

"Fine. Grey. Let's forget about the walls and just furnish everything else," Malfoy said. I could tell he was quite eager to leave me. Well, the feeling was mutual, buddy.

"Yep." I threw him one of my two scrolls and started to furnish one side of the house while Malfoy furnished the other.

What I discovered while doing this was the immense size of the house. There were three floors, each with about five different rooms. I had no idea what to do with all of them, so I left most of them unfurnished. A lot of them had empty boxes with cobwebs stacked all around the room, while others were empty, and the rest were filled with miscellaneous objects. There was a piano in one room – I would have to check it out later – and a record collection in another. Then I discovered a room with nothing but books on the first floor. I just _had_ to sleep next to it. So I chose the room next to the mini-library to be my bedroom. Unfortunately, Malfoy had chosen the room opposite mine, but I wasn't about to move.

We met back up in the main room.

"Well then. Since that's finished... you can cook," I ordered. I wanted the prat to do something that required non-magical skills.

"I can't cook," he said flatly.

"Learn," I sighed. "I won't cook. Either you cook or we both starve."

"Fine with me. I wasn't planning on eating tonight," he said, shrugging, and then he collapsed on my precious couch and put his smelly feet on it.

"What, are you on a diet or something? Scared you're getting a bit plump?" I taunted, beginning to take out saucepans. The kitchen was right beside the main room and I could still easily see Malfoy. Bags of groceries were on the floor – I examined them and put the food away where it belonged. "And get your feet off the couch," I added.

"I don't take orders from dirty Mudbloods," Malfoy called out to me. I dropped my plate on the table, inhaling deeply.

He pissed me off so much.

"You're just an ass who can't come up with anything better than 'Mudblood'," I growled.

"You're just a filthy little –"

"Mudblood? Yeah. Weren't you listening to what I just said? I've heard it so many times, it doesn't even affect me anymore," I said.

"I wasn't going to say Mudblood. I was going to say filthy little Gryffindor goody-two-shoes bushy-haired rabbit-toothed bookworm prude."

I stared at the back of his head.

_Don't cry, Hermione!_

I really felt like crying. No one had insulted me like that before. I wasn't used to it.

"Yeah, well, you're just a – a –" I spluttered, "a maniacal blonde-haired prat who has done no good in his life and makes himself feel good by bullying and degrading people and making the failures of others seem bigger than yours so that you don't feel like such an unaccomplished loser!" I choked out, before power-walking into my bedroom so that Malfoy couldn't see my shiny eyes.

I lay down on my queen bed, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. There was silence from the main room.

And then: "You left the groceries on the bench."

"Bugger off, Malfoy!" I called out, and then I turned over and slept.


End file.
